Lost Souls
by Echoing Fantasy
Summary: After the death of Batter, Pablo takes the time to count his losses. Zacharie helps… sort of. Written for the kink meme. Request was for Zach/Judge hurt/comfort.


_Lost Souls_

Loss had a way of drawing souls together. With the Batter dead, what little was left of the four zones remained - a pure white void devoid of life or shadow. Pablo found himself pacing the tracks to fill the hours, but when he wasn't on the tracks he was up on the roof where his brother had passed, curled up in a tight little ball and trying not to wail his lungs off. Such a state would be unfit of the Judge of Zone 0. Or... what had been Zone 0, at any rate.

But as with most things in his long life, the Judge found himself accompanied in his sorrow. At first he assumed it was his mind playing tricks on him, for surely no creature could survive the mass exorcism that had occurred earlier. But when the apparition sat beside him and ran a hand down his back, the Judge was both delighted and horrified to discover that the person was not an apparition at all. "Zacharie."

"Pablo." There was no need for titles here, out in this white void where nothing lived and many died. "Longing for Lord Death to come sweep you up?"

"Hardly," the cat said, trying and failing to sound haughty. "I'm merely contemplating the meaning of the universe. What's _left_ of it, anyway." He tried not to let the last bit sound bitter. Again, he failed.

Zacharie was quiet for a long time, hand still splayed across the Judge's back, neither petting nor sitting upon the fur, fingers gently digging in and stroking lean muscles and a sharp spine. "You know, they're sorry."

"Who?"

"The Player. After they finished the game, they cried for hours. They honestly thought they were doing good. You shouldn't blame them."

"I don't!" the Judge snapped with considerable venom. "They stood by me in the end - I've no reason to hate them."

"You say that, and yet they were the cause of your brother's death, were they not? Such considerable loss warrants ire, dear Judge."

The blow was a hard one, and given the range of topics they had to discuss, considerable low. Hackles raised, the Judge lashed out in turn. "If your mind has not rotted away in that blackened cranium of yours, you'll recall he killed _your_ precious Sugar as well!"

Zacharie didn't as much as twitch. "Yes."

"And you mean to tell me you do not despite them?"

That masked face turned to the Judge. "No, I don't."

In the face of such calm, the cat found himself trembling. He suddenly felt very tired, very sore, and very upset. He just wanted to curl up somewhere and cry out to the sky until his throat was gone or until he himself ceased to exist. Unable to do either in front of company (no matter how despicable said company was) he curled up and shook, trying to tell himself that he was cold. Even if there was no temperature in this desolate hell anymore, one could still be cold.

Zacharie watched him shake, saying nothing. There was a steady weight to the nothing of his words though, that which the land around them sorely lacked. The hand that had been on Pablo's back a moment ago now sat on the ground between them, unmoving. Zacharie watched the Judge shake, and drew something from the pack beside him, which had gone unnoticed till now. From the bag the merchant withdrew a mask, and carefully placed it before the feline. _"Pour votre tombés.*"_

Not even the weight of the nothingness could stop the small, desperate sound that escaped the Judge upon seeing the mask made in his brother's image. And it _was_ his brother's image. Oh sure, some could argue it was also his, seeing as they shared the same traits, but no, Pablo had lived with Valerie too long to forget a face, and that _was_ the face of his brother. Which raised the question - why had Zacharie forged such a creation? To taunt him? To remind him of his loss? To comfort him?

Before he could demand answers, Zacharie told him, "You can keep it, you know. It was intended for you from the start."

The words should have caused him ire. Instead, they forced pause on him. The Judge considered the implications behind the words, and at long last drew the mask to him with a single paw, laying his head down over the mouth of the mask. "Thank you."

The hand that had lain still before now raised itself to his head, stroking his ears expertly. "As one lost soul to another, you are more than welcome."

* * *

*For your fallen.


End file.
